Outside of Time
by Prothero
Summary: Six years after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry, presumed dead in the wizarding world, is living with Voldemort's parting curse under a new identity when Draco contacts him for help, unaware of his true identity. HD, dark creature Harry, dark creature Dra


Author's note: Although I've been reading H/D fan fiction for a while now, this is my first attempt at writing it. I hope it's ok…

Chapter 1

_Dear sir,_

_Recently I underwent a hideous ordeal that has left me in need of your most expert assistance. I was told that you were the absolute best in your profession, and therefore request your services for an indefinite amount of time. You will, of course, be paid abundantly for your aid. Included with this letter is a portkey that will take you directly to my home, if you wish to accept this offer. _

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Two weeks ago, the young, high profile Auror Draco Malfoy had suddenly and unexpectedly vacated his familial Malfoy Manor and moved to a remote castle on the outskirts of Ireland. Even Harry, presumed dead in the Wizarding world for over six years and lying low in Romania, had heard about it in the Bucharest Wizarding community.

So when he had received this letter from his old nemesis-turned-tolerable-acquaintance, his curiosity had already been roused. Accepting the portkey might have been impulsive, but in Harry's opinion, it would probably turn out to be worth it.

He paused in front of the castle entrance way and took a moment to make sure his scar was concealed with the Muggle make-up. Once he was sure it was completely invisible, he put on his sunglasses and inspected the doors to figure out how to get inside.

Like most traditional castle entrances, the doors were made of heavy oak. Less common were the stone-etched snakehead knockers, whose tongues curled and dipped around in circles to make the most disconcerting knocker handles Harry had ever seen.

Pocketing the portkey (a marbled glass paperweight), Harry lifted one of the knockers and knocked.

Almost immediately, a house elf pulled the heavy door open with surprising ease and looked up at Harry with huge, unblinking eyes. "You is Mr. James Noir, sir?" the house elf asked tentatively, peering around the side of the door in fear, as if it sensed the unnaturalness of the visitor on its doorstep.

"Yes," Harry answered. "I received a letter—"

"My Master is waiting for you in the library, sir," the house elf interrupted nervously, opening the door wider and beckoning to Harry to come in.

Harry stepped inside and relaxed when the door closed. After all, he could only stand so much sun. "Thank you," he said politely, thoughts drifting to worry over whether Malfoy would recognize him.

"Right this way, sir," the house elf said skittishly, wisely choosing to stay as far away from Harry as was courteously possible. Upon reaching the library, it pushed open the door with a flourish and gestured for Harry to enter.

After Harry went inside, the house elf followed behind, showing Harry to his seat in front of the fire, across from a figure sitting in a matching armchair. "Is there anything else needed, sir, M-Master Malfoy?" the house elf stuttered. "Tea or coffee?" it asked, eager to serve.

The figure in the armchair—presumable Master Malfoy—shifted, the flickering, unstable light of the fire obscuring his face, and regarded the house elf with a mixture of amusement and sternness. "We don't drink tea or coffee anymore, Yuffy," Malfoy reminded the house elf. "Have you forgotten already?"

Yuffy jumped. "I-I is forgetting, Master," she said guiltily, "I did not mean to offend…I-I had no intention…"

"It is fine, Yuffy," Malfoy said gently. "You may go."

Yuffy disappeared with a crack and left the two men alone. Malfoy extinguished the fire with his wand and turned towards Harry. He looked like the same Draco Malfoy Harry had last seen six years ago after the defeat of Voldemort, albeit much paler now. His blond hair looked dark against his skin, and his angelic features seemed sharpened and shadowed with illness, or, given the nature of his request, some other debilitating condition. His eyes confirmed his circumstance; they were a deep crimson hue. "I am so glad you agreed to come, Mr. Noir," he began. "I would have stood when you came into the room, but I am too weak to sit up."

Harry took off his sunglasses and noted the sharp intake of breath from his soon-to-be employer. "I could hardly turn you down," he said politely, folding his sunglasses and setting them on the arm of his chair. "It seemed to be an emergency, and now I can see why."

Malfoy sighed. "I admit, I am unprepared for how to cope with this…condition," he said. "Although, I was expecting someone…older."

Harry smiled. "I may look seventeen, but believe me, I am much older," he assured Malfoy. "I, too, went through your current circumstances," he sympathized. "But perhaps we should discuss business first."

Malfoy smiled faintly. "Of course," he agreed. "I'm afraid I only have a vague idea of your practice, Mr. Noir. Perhaps you would be kind enough to enlighten me as to the finer workings of your job?"

Harry regarded Malfoy thoughtfully. Even on the brink of collapse, he was surprisingly businesslike and efficient, with the same cool manner that he always adopted when dealing with others. "I help people adjust," Harry finally replied. "I help them learn to manage their new abilities, I tell them where they can find donors, and in whatever else they need, I do my best to assist them."

Malfoy propped his chin up on his folded hands and looked at Harry levelly. "Let me make one thing clear," he began. "Immediately after I was turned into a vampire, I sold my home and moved to this location. You are the only person who knows exactly where I am." He paused and bit his lip. "I would rather live out the remainder of my existence without my friends and family than have to endure watching them grow old and die while I remain…" he stopped, trying to search for words.

"Trapped outside of time?" Harry finished for him with a rueful smile. "I chose the same thing, Mr. Malfoy," he told Malfoy seriously. "I am here to serve."

Malfoy masked his surprise with a small smile. "It seems we understand each other," he said, a glint of curiosity in his eye. "I hope you find one thousand galleons, plus lodgings, adequate?" he offered, weaving his fingers together.

Harry was inwardly shocked at the high sum. "I find that quite agreeable," he said after a stunned pause, wondering just how much money Malfoy had at his disposal.

Malfoy relaxed, looking relieved, and sighed. "Where do we start?" he asked, looking slightly apprehensive.

Harry sat back in his seat and contemplated Malfoy's (rather grim) state of health. "Health wise," he began slowly, "I think we should start with nutrition." Malfoy blanched at Harry's words, making Harry sigh. "I know it seems like a revolting process," he continued, watching Malfoy's vigorous nod of agreement with some amusement, "but it's also necessary. Judging from your appearance, I would say you've been neglecting to drink blood."

Malfoy nodded again. "I have refrained from…indulging my nature," he confessed, looking sick at the thought of drinking blood.

Harry leaned forward, frowning. "Then…when exactly did you last feed?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Malfoy gave him a weary look. "Two weeks ago, when I was on Auror assignment and the vampire I was tracking attacked and turned me," he replied calmly, ignoring the impact of his answer on Harry.

"It's been two weeks since you were turned, and you haven't drunk blood yet?" Harry asked incredulously, clutching the edge of his chair in shock. "You should be dead."

Malfoy smirked. "I am dead," he pointed out dryly. His smirk faded and he looked at Harry intently. "Don't you see?" he asked earnestly, "I don't have any reason to live. I've as good as lost my job and my friends…would never..." he stopped, at a loss for words, and left his sentence unfinished.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure the Aurors would welcome a man of your position with enhanced sense and speed, Mr. Malfoy," he pointed out coolly. "And your social life is your own business, but if you refuse to drink blood, you won't have any life at all. I wouldn't dream of forcing you to choose one way or the other"—Malfoy snorted in disbelief—"but the fact remains," Harry continued, "that if you continue to deny yourself your basic needs, if any human ever enters here, they will be drained of blood before you can regain control of yourself."

Malfoy sat motionless in his chair, apparently numbed by this information. "And furthermore," Harry went on ruthlessly, "if you are exposed to blood of any kind, if, shall we say, your house elf should get so much as a nosebleed, you will have a similar reaction." Before Malfoy could protest, Harry put his arm to his own lips and parted the skin with his eyeteeth. Malfoy's cry of horror was cut short as his vampire nature assumed control, his eyes dilating and his teeth lengthening.

Harry stood and walked over to Malfoy to save him the exertion of getting up himself. "Here," he said softly, and held out his arm. Malfoy latched on to his arm with surprising speed and began drinking greedily. Harry watched him drink, amazed at the amount of self control Malfoy had to keep from completely mauling his arm.

Feeling that Malfoy had had enough from his arm and needed to learn how to properly feed, Harry tried to gently extract him from his arm. After some struggling, Malfoy relinquished Harry's arm reluctantly and licked his lips. "Ma-Mr. Malfoy," Harry began, giving him time to come back to his senses.

Malfoy shivered and blinked. "What…" he began, looking disoriented, before he stiffened and glared at Harry. "I do not recall giving you permission to take advantage of my thirst and force me to drink blood," he said coldly, but Harry sensed thath e seemed frightened by his reaction to the blood. He stood up shakily and tried to back away from Harry, but lost his balance. Harry dove to catch him and they collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the floor. "It didn't even help any, either," Malfoy muttered, losing some of his steam, "I still feel awful."

"We aren't done yet," Harry thought fit to point out. He disentangled himself from Malfoy and sat up, leaning against the side of the armchair. "You should always feed from a major artery unless it's an emergency, like it was before I gave you blood," Harry advised. "Right now, you're still hungry, but not as much as before, am I right?"

Malfoy nodded in resignation. "I am," he agreed, "but—"

"I'm going to teach you how to drink blood properly," Harry interrupted, helping Malfoy up into a sitting position. "You should probably, ah, get closer," he said awkwardly.

Malfoy moved on to Harry's lap without comment and leaned close to Harry's neck. "Like this?" he asked softly.

Harry stilled, feeling an unfamiliar inclination to touch Malfoy. Malfoy obviously felt the same way, because despite his anger at Harry, he was completely relaxed against Harry, his eyes were closed, and his head was on Harry's shoulder.

After an agonizing inner struggle, Harry gave in and slipped his arms around Malfoy's torso. "Inhale deeply," he instructed, thankful that his voice was steady. "Can you sense the blood?" he asked softly.

"Yes," came Malfoy's muffled voice, his nose and mouth pressed against Harry's neck.

"All right," Harry said slowly, "Now—" Without warning, Malfoy sank his teeth in, making Harry gasp. "Yes…that's what to do next…" Harry muttered faintly, surprised that Malfoy had acted on his own volition.

Harry had had many fledgling vampires drink from him before; feeding was one of the first lessons he taught his clients. But their bites had never made Harry feel so dizzy and content, or triggered such blissful pleasure, as Malfoy's bite was currently succeeding in doing. "Malfoy," Harry murmured drowsily, not trusting himself to say anything else.

Malfoy withdrew from Harry's neck long enough to mutter something Harry didn't quite catch, before continuing to feed. Harry managed to get a glimpse of his eyes, which were slightly glowing like rubies caught in the light, and suspected that his own eyes probably appeared the same.

With a start, Malfoy snapped out of his blood-induced daze and shuddered. Harry looked down at him worriedly, and saw that his eyes had lost their glow. "Oh, gods, I feel vile," he managed to croak, before passing out on Harry's shoulder.

Harry sat still, Malfoy still unconscious on his shoulder, and stared into the fire worriedly. Malfoy's reactions to his blood, his own euphoria from Malfoy's bite, and his inclinations to touch and comfort were all indications that he and Malfoy shared a rare vampire occurrence—they were mates.


End file.
